I Murdered My Brother JONAS
by JiaPryor
Summary: Nick Lucas had never done a thing to his brother, Joseph. Why does Joe feel the need to rid himself of Nicholas? "Oh my god. You murdered our brother."
1. Chapter 1

He stepped out onto the street. The dark road was illuminated by the street lamp that continuously flickered. It made a distinct, low buzzing sound that could be easily passed off as a simple glitch in someone's hearing. It was eleven twenty three at night, and he was out when in the innocent reality of his picture perfect life, he should have been in the hotel, sleep, with his family. The switchblade slightly shook in his blood encrusted hand. His fingers were wrapped tightly around over the handle causing his knuckles to turn a sickly pale shade of his once tan melanin. He used his opposite hand to thread his fingers through his sweaty raven colored locks. His clothes were rumpled and disheveled, a contradiction of his usual attire. His face was covered in a thin sheen of sweat that glistened on regardless of whatever type of light was showing.

The young man stumbled over his own foot and cursed inaudibly under his mouth before he began to drag the body of a male with a similar built away from the city and into the outskirts of town.


	2. Chapter 2

He was sweating profusely now. With his wavy curls plastered to his forehead, he diligently set to work. He began to tug the sanguinary vest off of his brother's battered, upper torso. He gently held the tag of the piece of clothing between his index finger and thumb; it was the only part of his sibling's attire that wasn't covered in blood. He glanced up at the sky and smiled grimly. A half moon was out; meaning that there would half the light than there would be on a full moon tonight.

His conscience told him there would be dire consequences for the actions he was taking. The thoughts swam in his head, interrupting his warped train of thought.

He began mumbling to himself. "If you had just listened. I told you to stop, but you continued on, blatantly ignoring my pleas. Noooo…." The man with the mentality of a teenager paused for dramatic affect that affected no one except himself and the motionless body lying on the damp concrete. "You brought this upon yourself. You just didn't listen to me, did you, you disobedient little fucker?" He glanced around the desolate streets, searching for signs of movement, but finding none. He bent down circumspectly as he twirled a lock of his brother's dark brown hair before abruptly pulling it roughly. The dead on the pavement was lifted several inches before it was released to slowly thud against the ground. He chuckled.

"Ah… ah… ah," he said as he wriggled his finger back and forth in front of the corpses face. "No running away, Mr. Rockstar. You put up a struggle, but I was stronger. I've always been the stronger brother out of the three of us. You're just a pathetic weakling which is why you're in this little predicament now." The solid, yet shadowy figure sauntered over to the lamp post and leaned against the steel pole. He quietly laughed maniacally as he gazed down at his murdered brother.

His brother's features were relaxed as a corpse's should be. One could even describe his face as peaceful with the exclusion of the jagged slit along his throat line. His face was pale, a deathly white that was the direct contradiction of being opaque. Now surrounding the area was dried blood that had transitioned into a darker shade, more like an extremely shady burgundy. Like his animate brother, his clothes were a dishevelment. Once again, it was the excessive opposition of his usual, day-to-day external appearance. The boy's hair was unkempt and unruly. Stray strands of curls spontaneously erupted from his head.

"You didn't have a chance," the only living person whispered remorsefully. "I gave you a chance, but you were too ignorant to take it. See, brother, this is why I had to do what I did. You virtually left me no choice. I didn't want to, but it needed to be done. Just like alcoholics need to drink, I needed to do what I had to do. I'm sorry, I really am."

He clasped his hands together, the sound of his palms smacking against one another resonated in the cool, dense air. A smirk played at the corner of his thin, pink lips. His hands were semi clean. The knife had been discarded long before he had begun dragging the body to his intended destination. "God, I need to repent for my sins. I killed my brother in your name. Lord, forgive my brother of his sins. If you put him in hell, make sure he burns forever." His hands unclasped themselves and fell to the side. Shifting his stance, he fell to his knees and bent his wiry frame over the carcass.

"I love you, Nicky. I promised that I'd always protect you. You never protected me. So I got you out of the way. See you in hell, little bro."


	3. Chapter 3

I can tell that I'm not coherent with the rest of the world. I know that this unexplainable feeling of emptiness is evading my body, making it all the more uncomfortable. Every one of my senses has been drastically altered to the point that they no longer work. I'm not floating, nor am I on solid ground. It's as if I'm levitating between fiction and reality. Life and death. I'm teetering on the edge.

Silence. Pure silence except for the distinct sound that rattles in the back of my eardrum. It sounds like I'm submerged several meters in water. I'm not particularly sure how to move my body. It feels so massive. I scream in my mind as a last resort to fruitlessly attempt to get my sodden limbs to move. Nothing works. I'm frightened now. I hear a voice mumbling in the distant background of this perplexed alternate world. His tone was eccentric. I wondered who this man would be talking to.

After several minutes I began to notice a strain on my throat. When I first became aware of it, it was just a dull burning sensation that ruthlessly attacked my entire neck. Now, it was a raging pain, threatening to drag me to hell. I gasped, attempting to catch a breath that didn't exist in this world. I wanted so badly to die, to release myself of this agony that had impaled itself on my body.

-

I was forgotten. Mislead. Lied to. I was through with all of it. Everyday I had to endure the repetition of my family constantly congratulating Nick. I'm just done. And I finally did something about it.

Tonight, I murdered my little brother, Nicholas Jerry Jonas. I'm proud of it. I saved the world from this merciless boy who was so selfish. It's such a fucking shame how my entire family will mourn over him being dead. _He was such a talented person_, they'd gasp through their tears. _He had so much to look forward to in life; God had definitely blessed that child. _Blessed my psychotic ass. He was a perfectionist, and was always trying to win over everybody: our parents, Kevin, Frankie, the fans. Just anybody he could get to fall in love with him fake personality.

"I love _you_!" I squealed in the perfect pitch of yet another crazed fan girl. He wanted all of the fans; why not give him one last request before he burned in the never ending depths of eternal flame? I stepped over his limp body while dragging the tip of my shoe against his chest. I opened my mouth and laughter fell out of it like blood expels from a mortal wound. Unless the mortal wound wasn't a wound at all, but a mere scratch on the surface of someone's egotistical, prevaricating, soul. It all depends.

As I stare at his body, I realize the full extent of what I had done. My eyes widened in horror while my mouth gaped open, fishing for oxygen to supply me with the words I need to express. _Joseph. How could you murder __**my**__ Nicholas? My [i]son_? Your _brother_?[/i] I knew those were the exact words that would be screeching out my mother's taut mouth. Then I would allow her the pleasure to be with her son again.

It's frighteningly easy how quick the tables could turn. I want to find satisfaction of my family's down spiral over Nick's murder. I wanted them to feel the pain of having something so cherished taken away from you in the blink of an eye. But now I'm unable to.

I throw myself on top his body, repenting for the ultimate sin I had finished. _What type of sick fuck Christian are you? The only thing you have to thank God for is the fact that you're not Catholic. If you sat in a wooden contraption all day, talking to a priest whose mind had more important things than your current killing status, you'd die. What good would it do you? Go confess in a box, then repeat the same transgression before returning to that damned box. _

I do thank God I'm not Catholic. I thank God for giving me the strength. I thank God for allowing me to forgive Nicholas of every _**un**__intentional _act he had ever committed. I thank God for supplying me with the tears that were unnecessary to shed tears over my murdered brother.


	4. Chapter 4

The bird wailed. Pitiful moans escaped from its beak shaped mouth as he weaved the switchblade through its trapped body. The blood of his brother glinted in the pitch darkness as it gradually mixed with the bird sanguine. The raven haired man found pleasure in the demise of the innocuous creature. He glanced up towards the indigo sky and discovered that the moon had traveled to the lower portion of the heavens. Returning his charcoal colored orbs to the immediate task at hand, he initiated that the bird had died. Its wing had been outstretched in its last futile attempt to escape from the "crazy man".

He shook his head remorsefully before he opened his mouth to speak. "If you had been good, you still would have died. Maybe not as soon, but still. You can't escape the inevitable, little birdie. You poor, poor birdie," he whispered as he gazed down at the corpse of the cardinal.

His brother was still lying on the concrete, immobile and dead. A slit ran across the middle of his neck, deep enough to allow protruding miniscule bones to be seen. Encrusted blood outlined the gash, and fresh blood that was growing a deeper, darker color by the minute was escaping through the matching slit as well.

"If only…" he began before he snapped his jaws shut. He sighed dejectedly and nudged the head of curls gently. "Oh… never mind. You could never understand, could you, Nicholas?" His tone grew louder with each syllable he produced. "The past is the past… as are you." He scanned his eyes circumspectly over the area and released a shallow breath he was unaware of keeping captive. "Where to put your body?" he inquired sullenly to himself.

He abruptly flung his head to the side to remove the bangs that had evaded his eyesight. Chuckling, he swiveled his body around and glared at his brother. "You poor birdie. What happened to your wings? Where's the flight and ambition you've had for as long as I could remember? Where's it at now?"

"Exactly," he responded for the deceased young man, "it was never there. It was all a hoax you put on to make everybody see you. You just couldn't stand being the quiet Jonas, could you? You had to go and outdo me. You had to go and perform on fucking broadway, didn't you? You didn't like people always laughing at my jokes or just wanting to be around me. You had to fucking rip everything out form under me!" Eyes widening immensely, he exhaled a breath and positioned his hands on his chest. He allowed his eyes to slothfully close as he breathed in the air that was heavily filled with the distinct odor of foliage.

Suddenly, an engine noise crept onto the scene, all of the lights shut completely off. The man in the car gasped as he pulled his Hybrid parallel to the side walk while gawking at the man breathing deeply with a bloody knife gripped securely in his hands. He shook as his eyes roamed the remainder of the desolate area, stifling a breath as his orbs focused on the body of his younger brother. Kevin Jonas stepped out his car slightly, attempting to not disrupt the second oldest brother of the Jonas clan from talking to his murdered second youngest brother.


End file.
